Hongyu's face changed.
The color drained from her cheeks. Her jaw tightened, muscles tensing visibly beneath skin that had gone pale. Her hands—resting on the table moments ago, relaxed for the first time in days—began to tremble. Small, rapid shakes she tried to hide by pressing them flat against her thighs.
It didn't work.
"Are we going to be sent to war?"
The words came out tight. Strained. The voice of someone trying very hard not to scream.
"Is that why we're forming teams?"
Xīng Hé saw the terror behind her friend's eyes. The barely-contained panic of a child who had endured two months of hell and now faced something even worse.
She laughed.
The sound came out lighter than expected—partly genuine, partly forced. Genuine because the fear was understandable. Forced because Hongyu needed reassurance more than honesty.
"No," Xīng Hé said, letting warmth soften her voice. "We're too weak for the battlefield."
Hongyu's trembling didn't stop immediately, but her breathing slowed.
"Think about it," Xīng Hé continued. "We don't have any information about who we're fighting. What we're fighting. Where the fighting is even taking place."
She leaned back, keeping her posture relaxed.
"Before the drafting, every city went about their business normally. Nobody talked about war. Nobody mobilized. Nobody acted like there was active conflict nearby."
Hongyu's brow furrowed. "So... where is it?"
"That's what I'm saying. The war could be happening inside a separate space entirely. Like this pocket realm." Xīng Hé gestured vaguely at the crystalline walls. "Somewhere cut off from the normal world."
The words left her mouth before she realized.
Pocket realm.
Hongyu's eyes sharpened. "Pocket realm?"
Xīng Hé's stomach dropped.
She'd slipped.
It had been so long since she could speak freely—since she could share thoughts without weighing every word. These visits with Hongyu had loosened something. The constant vigilance had relaxed. The walls around her knowledge had developed cracks.
And now she'd revealed something she shouldn't have.
"That's..." She paused, scrambling. "That's what I think, anyway."
The words came out awkward. Stilted.
Hongyu watched her for a moment—something flickering behind those eyes, some calculation Xīng Hé couldn't quite read.
Then her friend nodded slowly.
"So we're not going to war?"
"No." Xīng Hé let certainty fill her voice. This, at least, she was sure of. "We're too weak. Too untrained. Sending us to an actual battlefield would be a waste of resources."
"Then what will they ask us to do?"
"Quests, probably. Missions." Xīng Hé considered. "Things that affect the war directly or indirectly. Supply runs. Scouting. Dealing with problems in territories that support the war effort."
She met Hongyu's eyes.
"We won't be on the battlefield. But that doesn't mean our lives won't be at risk."
---
Hongyu absorbed the words in silence.
She thought about what Xīng Hé had said—really thought, turning each piece over. It made sense. Not perfect sense, but enough.
And she wasn't trusting blindly.
That was important. She'd learned that lesson in the barracks—watching children cling to promises that turned out to be lies, believing assurances from instructors who hurt them the next moment. Trust was dangerous.
But Xīng Hé was different.
She had to be.
Hongyu had seen the manor. Had walked through corridors that sparkled with crystalline light, eaten food that made training rations taste like ash, watched servants bow and defer with genuine respect—or at least genuine fear of consequences.
Xīng Hé had resources none of them possessed.
Access none of them had.
A lifestyle almost perfect compared to everyone else's hell.
It was only reasonable she had sources of information too. Only logical that someone treated this well would have opportunities to learn things others couldn't.
And Hongyu was the only one who could reach her.
That thought carried weight.
She'd tried to visit for two months before finally being allowed in. Had come again and again, been refused again and again, persisted until someone relented. Even now, she couldn't stay. Could visit, could eat, could talk—but when time came, she had to return to the barracks.
Still.
She was here.
Everyone in Group One knew about Xīng Hé's living conditions. Word had spread—whispers in training halls, speculation during rare rest. The natural awakener. The special one. The girl who lived in a private manor while everyone else bled and broke together.
But none of them had seen it firsthand.
None of them could get in.
Only Hongyu.
That made her important.
She didn't fully understand how, or what it might mean later, but she felt the truth. In a place where connections were currency and information was power, being the only link to someone like Xīng Hé had value.
She would hold onto that.
---
"Don't think too much about it."
Xīng Hé's voice pulled her from her thoughts.
"Right now, we eat. We rest. We take things one day at a time." Xīng Hé smiled—tired but genuine. "Let's eat. I'm starving."
Hongyu nodded, feeling tension drain from her shoulders.
"Okay."
She followed Xīng Hé toward the laden table, steps lighter than when she'd arrived.
The dishes here couldn't compare to training zone food. Rich sauces. Tender meats. Vegetables with actual flavor instead of nutrient-dense blandness. Even the smell was different—warm and inviting instead of purely functional.
Hongyu sat and picked up her utensils.
For a little while, at least, she could pretend things were normal.
---
End of Chapter 32